In Truth
by amwaltz.rain
Summary: The story of Peter, and what he learns about being a nation.
1. Chapter 1

In Truth

Chapter 1-

Immersed in the all too familiar dissonant crowds of the city, Peter squeezed the paw he was holding. He smiled at the returned and reassuring gesture, looking up to meet his father's sharp eyes. A nudge over to the fount in the middle of the square, Peter was led over and set on the edge. There, they waited. Most of the people were the same, in such a rush to get where they were going. Scheduled and short, though the people were so young and lively they chained themselves down. He spotted a few of them that he knew. Instead of waving, they played the game. Make eye contact, maybe a nod in their general direction, but nothing to show preferences or imply any relations outside of business.

He was sure holding Papa's hand here was against the rules, they'd received harsh looks but Papa stood and brushed it off. Affections were for yesterday. However, Papa had conceded, allowing him to accompany the giant to the meeting, provided he behaved.

How different it was today. All so somber while the humans talked. The nations hardly spoke while their leaders went back and forth, some with offers of alliances, some with subtle insults, barbs and threats. Some nations cringed quietly. Other's eyes would dart around; quickly locking gazes with the ones insulted by their humans, apologizing with their eyes, pleading no one took the words to heart. '_I don't hate you'_ they'd stare.

Last night had been an amazing sight for the boy. They met his uncles in a corner of the room. The six blondes regarded each other, each with their trademark expressions. Their shields began slipping as the doors closed. Tino had a pleasant smile on his face, beaming further at Peter before embracing the boy. Matthias had his smirk; his father called it cocky, and clapped his approaching brother on the shoulder before crouching down with his fist out. Peter punched, this time without hurting his knuckles, causing Matthias to chuckle and run his fingers through the Sealander's hair. Emil grinned slightly, offering a low-five, his puffin sputtering at the jostle.

At last, he reached his uncle Lukas. He'd been looking about with mild disinterest. Lukas's eyes changed at the boy, the dull lightening up and causing a noticeable shift in his apathetic expression to those who knew him. He merely offered a hand, which Peter shook; working on keeping his grip firm like his father had told him. Peter felt himself yanked forward, his face made impact with his uncle's chest. Lukas idly traced runes on his nephew's back, holding the boy close. Slowly, he released him, eyes still vacant but pleased that the boy hadn't moved and allowed him to trace the blessing.

They then turned and assimilated into the crowd, the feelings of camaraderie infectious as the doors closed. Shut off from the humans, madness erupted. Old comrades cuffed each other's shoulders and growled in a friendly fashion. Some screamed and ran at another, before throwing their arms around their friends. Lovers who were separated by seas held close embrace. Some brushed lips.

Finally, Peter understood.

So short intro is short.

Will have references to historical events and other incidents (that may be triggers) later. I know the Utøya Massacre may be a touchy subject (it's been less than two years) to those who knew people in this attack, as it should be. A loss like that isn't something to be brushed under the rug. - just a warning. This won't be all sunshine and rainbows. But there will be fluffies.

Questions? Comments? Let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

In truth chapter 2-

He doesn't remember much of his beginning. He asked Papa and his uncles, all of their answers were about the same. They had flickers of running through their lands. Alone but not, feeling their land and the shores that lapped at them, the life of the plants and animals. Peter doesn't know at what point the flickers became solid coherent thoughts. He remembered the scent of the sea and the water against his body. The concrete, instead of dirt. Living, running amongst the soldiers, though so very small. Their eyes towards the water looking for the enemy. The enemy? Who was the enemy?

He was told the enemy was a monster with yellow hair, and later that the enemy was no longer a threat. But the question remained- who was the enemy? The men told him that the war was over and their enemy was gone. But what was war? Who was the enemy? It was 1956, he'd had awareness for over a decade now, but he still didn't understand their words.

He darted about the deck, looking for "The Enemy", when he ran straight into a strange man. Was this the enemy? He had yellow hair and huge eyebrows. The enemy crouched down.

"Hello. I am known as Great Britain-" He'd heard of Great Britain, "You look terribly lost, lad-" Peter tried to move away. "I'm afraid you don't understand. You are Fort Roughs, and I've come to take you to my home. We have much to talk about. Come along now, Roughs." And the man gripped the boys forearm.

"My name is Peter!" he wailed, head-butting "Britain" and running away. He ran and hid before one of his men turned him in. Traitor.

"Sir." The traitor said, "Roughs." Peter struggled a bit from the traitor.

"Peter. Please stop lad."

"My name is Peter! Not Roughs! And I don't want to go with that jerk Britain!"

"Actually, he's only England… He just took the title because of a disagreement with his brothers."

After a good hour of coaxing and the threatening of his precious marbles (a gift from one of his men years ago), he got on a boat with England and left his land in the distance.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt. That pang in his chest at the loss of his land. And thus he would forever be known as "Jerk England" in Peter's book.

…

Chapters will be varying in length and updated regularly. Questions? Comments? Let me know.

Note: Fort Roughs (Sealand) was sunk into the sandbar February of 1943. I'm using this as Peter's birth. Time lapse- 1956 when the last full-time British personnel were removed. And consequently Peter.


	3. Chapter 3

IT 3

After what he assumed were years- he had no way knowing though, the time passed differently when you were a nation- there began to be visitors. Or a specific visitor. Peter, or Sealand, as he adamantly called himself after being claimed by Bates, warily noticed this new development.

Every month a giant would come to the house and talk to stupid Arthur about things Peter didn't understand. He caught them say "the U.N.", but those letters didn't mean anything to him. Un? Un what? Soon, the beast's eyes would follow him curiously. Instead of listening to Arthur speak; the hulking man would watch Peter play with his toys. After a few meetings, (Peter figured out how to tell apart the days better now), Jerk England was running late and one of Sealand's nannies had to let the beast into the house.

Sealand looked up from his playing and stared at it for the first time. Both standing, Peter's toddler-like body measured a few centimeters above the man's knee. The man slouched slightly, avoiding the doorframe. Choppy blonde hair nearly brushed the top of his glasses. The eyes of the beast were cold and sharp, easily sending a lesser man running. His expression was as sharp as Peter had ever seen it, a truly intimidating figure and commanding presence.

"Want to play with me?" Peter asked, a smile on his face, hoping. He pressed a small car into the giant's empty hand. The giant paused for a moment before nodding slowly, taking a step towards the other cars, waiting for Peter's three and a half strides to stand beside him. The man sat on the ground and looked over at Peter, still the shorter, for direction. Peter revved his engine and pushed the car across the floor, the man doing more or less the same, but soundlessly.

After a few minutes of Peter's jubilance at the giant's willingness to play his game, he decided to test him. He ran the car on the man's knee, traveled over to the man's shoe, up to his knee, then back again. The man looked on, his expression softer. Peter could've sworn his lips twitched upwards for a moment.

"Vrrrrrr." Peter heard the man growl playfully and bumped his car lightly against Peter's. "Boom." He stated in his thick accent, his low voice warmer than Peter had ever overheard. Peter beamed, and saw the right corner of the beast's mouth lift in response.

They continued a little longer, crashing their cars and driving on the floors or the beast's legs, racing each other jovially. That jerk England never played his games. He was always cross-stitching, drinking tea (or booze), being boring and ignoring Peter. His nannies were hardly any company. Trying to teach him "Primary Schooling", not letting him have any fun, and telling him about saints. What was a saint? He had been named by a group stationed on his land, after a saint, the keeper of the gates. He hadn't understood them at all, but at least he had a name.

The-not-really-a-beast man was lots of fun.

"I'm sorry I was so late Oxenstierna, I was just trying to get the final reports in when the blasted machine jammed. Anyways-" England paused, as if only just now noticing the two. "What are you doing?"

"Playin' cars." The Oxen-whatever beast stated, his expression changed to one questioning Arthur's mental facilities at such an obvious action.

"Yes," Arthur stated drily, "why?"

"He ask'd m'ta play so I'm playin'."

"Well, we should probably get to looking over the papers again and go over your end's conditions."

"We c'n wait. N'thin's changed."

"Mr. Oxenstierna! These meetings are for our governments, not for playing with beings who shouldn't have ever existed!"

Peter bit his lip and tried hiding his face in shame. It wasn't the first time the jerk had said anything about how he shouldn't have existed. He could brush it off and hide the thorn away alone, but not with his new… friend? Was the beast his friend? All the same, he was shamed by his own audacity, the fact that he breathed when he was told he shouldn't.

He felt a weight rest on his head and muss his hair. Oxenstierna had risen silently, glaring at Arthur, and ran his hand through the boy's hair again.

"Mr. Kirkland. Ja, there is some business that we need to attend to." He enunciated.

Arthur shrank back slightly at the beast's shift in behavior. When they left the room, the little insignificant fort picked up his toys and threw them in the box before running into his bedroom and throwing himself onto the bed to curl up in a quivering ball of misery.

…

It was dark when he heard a knock on his door. The portal creaked open slowly, revealing bits of light from behind the hulking figure in the hall.

"May I come 'n?"

Peter sat up and rubbed his eyes, irritated by the salt. The beast didn't wait for an answer and crossed the floor over to the bed and sat down next to him.

"Hi." Peter murmured.

"Hej." It growled back.

They sat in silence.

Peter turned to the beast and held out his hand. "Hi. My name is Peter Kirkland."

The beast clasped the boy's hand, who marveled at the sheer size.

"Berwald Oxenstierna. Nice ta meet ya."

"…why are you here?"

"'came ta say goodbye 'nd goodnight."

"You're leaving?"

"Ja. Hav'ta f'r now. 'll come back."

"Oh," Peter said softly, looking down. "Goodbyes are sad."

Peter tensed when the giant hugged him. Feeling the boy's reaction, Berwald released him immediately and moved away, mumbling an apology. Peter stood and shuffled over to Berwald, feet catching in the sheets before wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Berwald's hands shook before setting them lightly on the child's back. This was the first time that Peter would see Berwald Oxenstierna's hands shake.

"Goodnight, see ya soon." The man whispered.

"Goodnight." Peter whispered back to his new…friend? Berwald released him and walked away before Peter could voice his question.

…

AWW!

Anyways, to "toom". I had left off a note that I thought I had posted with the first chapter but it didn't make it as I posted the wrong version of the document. No I do not read too much. Thank you for more or less pointing out that this is slightly different from canon. Why? Because I wanted to build up on emotional connections between characters and events so we can come full circle at the end. Example here: Berwald and Peter meet here- in 1968. Why would I do that? For future events. And Berwald will 'adopt' Peter (for the first time… explanations forth coming) in the summer of 1969. What am I doing? Stick around if you want to, leave if you don't like it.

So. Questions? Comments? Let me know.

Notes: Named Sealand 1967. Meets Berwald in winter of '68.


	4. Chapter 4

IT 5

Over the next… Days? Weeks? Months? - Peter saw neither hide nor tail of his friend. Peter had decided on the title "friend", his first friend in fact, but the man wasn't there to hear it. The weather was heating up again, for England anyways. It was the beginning of summer, when Berwald came again.

Another nanny had to let him in. When Peter saw him, he ran as fast as his legs would allow before throwing himself at Berwald's. He looked up at Berwald, who to Peter's delight had what appeared to be a sincere smile, though the glare remained.

"Hej," the man chuckled, carding a hand through the small boy's hair.

"Hey yourself," Peter said before laughing and squeezing the giant's legs tighter and standing on the man's feet.

Berwald shuffled slowly with the toddler clinging to him, making little sounds of happiness at the impromptu ride. This new game was broken up, once again, by Arthur.

"Peter! Get off of him this instant! You can't go climbing on people! Go to your room. Honestly…"

Peter stopped listening when Berwald tapped him on the shoulder and put a finger to his lips and gestured for him to go down the hall that leads to his room. Peter scowled, but obeyed because that's what his friend wanted.

'See you soon.' The man mouthed. Peter nodded, intent on waiting as long as he had to for his friend to come back and find him.

…

During his snack time, what Arthur called tea time, Berwald returned.

He sat on the floor next to Peter, taking slow breaths through his clenched jaw.

"Hi Berwald."

"Hej, Peter…" a few more breaths. "Peter, ya think we c'ld talk f'r a bit b'fore playin'?"

"Uh-huh," Peter nodded and looked over at his friend.

"Wh't do ya like 'bout livin' here?"

Peter stopped and gaped for a moment before using a skill he'd learned from what little politics he'd been exposed to.

"Why would you ask that? I mean of course I like it here, I live here-"

"'Snot what I'm askin'."

Peter didn't speak and stared at the floor.

"Jerk England hates me." His voice broke. "He says I shouldn't have ever existed and how I'm a waste of stolen military property and-and-a-and-"

Berwald wrapped his arms around the boy and picked him up, rocking slightly. Peter buried his face into the giant's shirt, sobbing quietly. When Berwald was sure the boy was calm and no longer sniffling, he spoke again.

"I'm sorry. 't's not much, but I am. I'm sorry he says th'se things. I'm sorry I w's gone f'r s'long. Th' paper work t'k more than I thought."

Peter looked up quizzically.

"'m Sorry. N'ther of ya 're happy right now- s' I 'sked 'ngland. I want'd to check w'th ya first b'fore they finalize things. Would ya like to live w'th m'?

"Live…with you?" Peter managed to ask from his daze.

"Ja-" Berwald started before his air was cut off with the small boy's vice like arms constricting around his neck. Left with no choice he gripped the child's wrists gently and detangled his neck from his hold. He coughed a bit, trying to continue after the strangling.

"I'm s'pposed to wait, but I d'n't see th' point. Ja. We'll pack up yer stuff. Kirkland knows 'lready.'

Peter tried to wrap his mind around the idea. Leaving England. Not going back to his land. As much as he yearned to go back, he knew that he wouldn't be allowed to go. As nice as Berwald was, Peter wasn't stupid. But he was leaving, leaving Arthur. Going with Berwald. But where?

The anxiety began creeping in on the small boy. There were few people who acted from the goodness of their hearts. Everyone had an ulterior motive for their actions. Then why did- he removed his wrists from the giant's grasp and stepped away, watching the beast.

"Peter?" it growled.

Peter turned on his heel and ran for his bedroom, pushing himself under the bed. Even in the dark, muffled by the blanket he'd pulled down, he could hear the door creak open and the beast walking around the room, saying his name and mumbling in a foreign tongue. He heard him near the closet, moving some objects around, looking for him- Peter realized. The beast circled the bed before walking away towards the door. Peter let go of the breath he was holding. Just when he believed the coast was clear and he began to untangle himself, Berwald returned, lifting the bed up with ease in one hand, his other extended to Peter. Pulling the boy gently up out of harm's way, he set the bed down before turning to him.

"Peter?...Peter?... Peter, what's wrong?"

The boy was decades old, but still in a toddler's body with toddler reactions. The boy began to cry again, with no discernible reason to Berwald.

Berwald shushed and rocked the boy, as he had done a few times with Emil all those centuries ago.

"Wh-why?" the boy blubbered.

It was Berwald's turn to feel the ache of being unwanted. That could've gone better. He thought glumly.

The boy whispered "Why do you want me to go with you? Why do you want me? I'm just a bloody sea fort. I was made by the Brits and not even their country wants me and-"

Berwald had had enough.

"Is 'e really that awful t'ya? Idiot has a chance I know s'me would kill f'r 'nd he acts like th's." he growled, shaking his head.

Peter glanced up at Berwald, confused by his words.

"'ll just tell ya plainl' then…. I don't like bein' 'lone. 've w'nted a child f'r years 'nd ya 'nd England don't really get along s' I 'ffered ta take ya. 'M not s'pposed ta h've ya but I'm w'rkin' w'th m'bosses on that. 't's yer choice though. 'll leave ya t' it."

He released the boy then, hands shaking, terrified of rejection from the boy.

Peter clasped the man's hand and whimpered "Stay?"

Berwald could barely nod and follow the boy back over to the bed. Peter pushed him with little success, until the giant understood the movements and laid on the bed as best he could. He pulled his knees up, scrunched and waiting for instruction. Peter crawled up and settled in the empty space and closed his eyes. Berwald waited, observing the boy's chest rising and falling gently with each little breath. Even if the boy decided to say no, Berwald could have this moment, right? He shifted lightly, maneuvering an arm around the boy and drew him close to his chest, marveling at the little life. He didn't notice when he himself began to drift off.

…

He woke up, joints stiff from the cramped position and tried rolling out of the bed. The weight on his chest had begun to stir. Berwald froze and looked blearily down to the lump. Where were his glasses? The metal frames were pushed clumsily onto his face by chubby hands, one of which rested on his cheek. His eyes focused and met clear blue.

"_Papa?"_ His chest clenched.

"Papa?" Peter called again, patting the man's face. Berwald nodded numbly as the boy wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Papa." Peter whispered. Berwald returned the embrace and answered "Yes."

…

Notes: In the summer of '69! Couldn't help it.

Guess who is back?


End file.
